


The One He Loved

by rosa_himmelblau



Category: Wiseguy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: Sonny got away.But he still needs to say goodbye.





	The One He Loved

Sonny sat across the street from the little al fresco place, watching. For a second he stared at the blonde, but as always his eyes strayed back to Vinnie. He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the gun he kept there. He was going to kill the Judas. 

Judas was the ultimate betrayer, he reflected, but Jesus had known that going into the game. It would have hurt, but it wouldn't have been the same. He wouldn't have invested Himself in Judas, wouldn't have given him His whole heart and soul. Of course, being the Son of God threw the whole comparison out of whack, but still; he liked to think about it. 

He wondered what Vinnie and the girl were laughing about. Was he screwing her? She was pretty, sure, but he could tell she was a leaner, someone who couldn't stand up on her own two feet. What did he see in her? He'd never pegged Vinnie as the kind of guy who'd go for a leaner; he'd thought Vinnie had more class than that . . . . 

And it hit him again, a solid shot to the solar plexus, knocking the air out of him. Oh, yeah, Vinnie had class all right—he was just full of class—he'd proved that, hadn't he? 

But fuck it, he'd been fun, more fun than anybody he'd ever known before—could make him laugh like nobody else, could make him feel— 

Most importantly, though, he'd been a liar, a thoroughly untrustworthy betrayer, a—a Judas. 

But it didn't matter because he was going to put a bullet through that cheating, lying heart. And maybe that would get the bastard out of his heart once and for all. 

Sonny had briefly considered blowing Vinnie's cover and letting the next guy take him out. It would be nice and neat, but what good would it do? This was something Sonny had to do for himself. If he didn't, how would he ever get Vinnie out of his heart? 

The waitress came with their bill, Vinnie paid, and he and the blonde left, hand-in-hand. 

"Sweet," Sonny murmured, but instead of following them he ordered another drink. It wasn't like he could lose him—if he could do that, he wouldn't have a problem. He would kill the bastard—not today, but soon enough. In the meantime he'd just keep watching. 

: ~ : ~ : ~ : 

McPike. Frank McPike had set him up—set a trap for him, and that trap had been Vinnie Terranova. 

And what a trap he'd been. He'd pushed every button Sonny had, turned on all his emotions, filled up all his empty spaces... 

He hadn't snuck in—he'd walked in, flat-out, with that pure, you-can-trust-me look, just walked into Sonny's life and turned it upside down. And Sonny had trusted him—he'd loved him— 

That weasel Sid Royce had known, but what good did that do when you couldn't believe a word that came out of his mouth? The man had had no passion in his soul, so how could you trust him? In fact, Sonny seriously doubted that Sid had even had a soul . . . though he had definitely had blood in his veins—Sonny had seen it himself, splattered all over the front seat of his car. 

But thoughts of Sid Royce slipped away as he watched Vinnie and McPike talking intimately. How could he do that? McPike was another one, soulless, a heart like a block of ice—how could Vinnie be so intimate with a reptile like that? 

It had helped, talking to the priest, even if Sonny had been the only one who knew what they were talking about. 

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, it's been about a million years since my last confession, but that's OK, I didn't really come here to confess, I've got a kind of theological question for you." 

"All right." The voice on the other side of the screen was wary. 

"How much do you really think it hurt Jesus that Judas betrayed Him? Because, you know, He knew it was coming. So it's not like He couldn't've been surprised, and He wouldn't really have trusted the rat bastard. But, Father, what if it hadn't been Judas?" 

There was a long, perplexed silence. "I don't think I understand—" 

And that was when it had all clicked in Sonny's brain. "What if it had been John who'd betrayed Him—he was the disciple Jesus loved, right? Isn't that what it says in the Bible—" 

"Jesus loved all of his disciples." His voice was careful, like he was talking to a dangerous lunatic. 

"Yeah, sure, because He's God. But as a man—it's one thing if you're betrayed by someone you never trusted. But what if you loved him—what if you gave him everything, including your heart, and he threw you to the wolves? As a man, would Jesus still have loved him?" 

Father Terranova had gone off on some theological tangent, but Sonny hadn't listened—in fact, he'd left in the middle of it. Now it all made sense—and the weird thing was, Vinnie was the one who'd put it in his head in the first place, coming back from Brooklyn, where he'd been to Mass, laughing about the fact that John was the only one who said that John was the apostle Jesus had loved—was that ego, or what? 

So what if John had been the betrayer? Vinnie was a betrayer all right, one of the best, but he wasn't Judas—that would be Royce, sent there to tear everything down. Sid blabbing to the cops meant nothing, Sonny expected him to do it— 

Because knowing all along that Judas was going to betray Him, obviously Jesus wouldn't have trusted him. But if He'd been blind-sided . . . . John was the disciple that Jesus had loved, Judas was nobody special. If John had been the one to betray Him . . . ? What if He'd loved him anyway—not as God, but as man? What if He couldn't stop loving him, even after he'd betrayed Him? What if He couldn't let go? 

Sonny took the gun out and looked at it. "I can let go any time I want," he said softly. "Any time at all." 

: ~ : ~ : ~ : 

Vinnie stood staring out into the dark city. Then the room darkened behind him and Frank came up and yanked the curtains closed. "I really wish you wouldn't do that; standing in a window, with the light behind you, you're a perfect target. You're supposed to be smarter than that—they're still looking for him, you know." 

"They won't find him," Vinnie replied distantly. "He's a million miles from here by now." 

"If he was a million miles from here, he wouldn't have been able to leave Sid Royce's body in the front seat of his car—" 

"You don't know that Sonny did that," Vinnie argued absently. "There's plenty of people who hate Sid—" 

Frank ignored him because Frank always ignored him; he could have been reciting nursery rhymes for all Frank cared. "—and he wouldn't have been spotted by one of our agents, and by a local cop—both of whom are better at spotting than at apprehending, but that's another matter—" 

Vinnie just let the words drift around him, not really listening. 

"—and I wouldn't have had to persuade Daryl to put you in this make-shift safehouse and in the process got locked up here with you—" 

"He's a million miles from here," Vinnie repeated, watching the figure he could imagine down in the shadows. "I'm sure of it." 

"Yeah, well, you can be as sure of that as you like. Me, I'd like to have him in a cage before I let myself relax." 

"Nobody can stay vigilant that long, Frank. Let it go. He's a million miles from here and he's not gonna jeopardize his freedom by coming back." 

"By coming back to get even with you." Frank hit the last words hard. 

"By coming back for anything. He's not gonna do it." 

"I'd lay money you're wrong, but if I won you wouldn't be here to pay off." 

"Mary Sunshine," Vinnie muttered. 

"He's got a lot more reason to go after you than Royce, you know." 

"If he did Royce, which you can't prove." 

"Prove to who? I don't have to prove it, I know it. And you're not resting so easy, either, so don't try and pull that ‘I'm cool, I'm easy' routine with me." 

"I am cool, Frank, but I am not easy." 

"I just wish to hell you were stressed out for the right reasons." 

"You got good and bad reasons to be stressed out, Frank?" This actually interested Vinnie, and he turned from the window to look at Frank. "I gotta hear these." 

Frank sighed and answered with eternal, annoyed patience. "Yes, Vince, I've got good and bad reasons to be stressed out. Good reasons are vindictive psychos coming after you for revenge. Bad reasons are feeling guilty because you think you betrayed someone like Sonny Steelgrave." 

"I didn't betray someone like Sonny, I betrayed Sonny. And I didn't betray Sonny, so let's just drop it, ok?" Maybe, if he said it aloud often enough, he could start to believe it. Vinnie walked out of the living room, with Frank on his heels. 

"Well, that makes sense." A few minutes of silence, then, "You know, Vince, it's your kind that worries me." 

"My kind? What does that mean?" He sat down on the edge of his bed, was staring at the pattern in the carpet. It was an ugly gold color, and somehow it reminded him of something, a story he couldn't quite remember. 

"It means that the OCB never has to worry about you getting seduced by the money or the cars or the women—you may enjoy the life while you're living it, but you wouldn't do anything you shouldn't to keep it. You wouldn't even seriously consider it." 

"And that worries you." 

"It worries me because I know Steelgrave could never have gotten you that way. But he could have gotten you." 

Vinnie looked up sharply to face him. "What do you mean?" 

Frank ignored the fight in Vinnie's eyes. "I mean, your weak point isn't stuff, it's your heart. It's friendship and loyalty. He was seducing you with his friendship. And you were right there on the edge." 

Vinnie just stared at him, waiting. 

"And you're not worried now that he's gonna come after you, or blow your cover. What you're worried about now is, is he eating ok? Getting his rest? How's he feeling?" 

Vinnie looked away. "You're nuts." 

"That's why I'm in this job. But I'm still right about you." 

Vinnie tore his gaze from the carpet, then lay down. Maybe if he pretended he wanted to sleep, Frank would go away. "Good night, Frank," he said firmly. 

Frank sighed. "G'night, Vince." 

: ~ : ~ : ~ : 

Sonny sighted Vinnie easily in the window. "Pow. Pow-pow, pow—" 

The lights went out, but he could still see Vinnie; then the curtains closed. "Good going, McPike. While you're up there, why don't you warn him about leading with his heart?" He waited, knowing that once McPike left, the curtains would open again. "On the other hand, why waste your breath? You can't change him." The room stayed dark, but the curtains did open. "What did I tell you?" Again he set his sites on Vinnie, aiming dead center for his heart. "I loved you, dammit!" he whispered. "And you loved me!" 

: ~ : ~ : ~ : 

The shots wakened Frank from the light doze he'd finally fallen into. Out of bed and in the living room in a heartbeat, he heard Vinnie warn, "Be careful of the glass on the floor." 

The calm tone of Vinnie's voice hit Frank's fear and instantly transformed it into an adrenaline-boosted fury. "What the hell are you doing? Get away from that window!"

"OK, Frank, calm down." Vinnie pulled the curtains closed over the shattered glass, then made his way to a lamp and turned it on. Then he got Frank's shoes and handed them to him. 

Staring at him, Frank put them on. Then he went to the phone. When the necessary calls were made, he turned back to Vinnie. "A million miles, huh? He's got damn good aim for a guy a million miles away. If he'd only been half a million, you'd be dead." 

Vinnie was looking at the window, though he had not gone back to it. "He was across the street. And he wasn't aiming at me." 

"Really. And what makes you think that?" 

"Frank, he fired eight times. He wouldn't have missed all eight." 

For a second Frank was simply too angry to speak. "You just stood there—didn't you? You just stood there and let him take his shot—all eight of 'em! Made yourself a target so—what? Why, Vince, will you just tell me that?" 

"He wasn't aiming at me," Vinnie repeated stubbornly. 

"He wasn't aiming at you! Well, that's just marvelous. So tell me this—what if he'd missed?" 

At that, Vinnie turned around, laughing. "It would have been pretty weird, wouldn't it? Aiming deliberately to miss me and hitting me by mistake?" 

"That's it," Frank snapped, grabbing him by the arm. "Get in your room and stay there until I tell you you can come out! And if you go near the window, I'll shoot you, and believe me, I'll be aiming at you and it won't be a mistake!" He shoved an unresisting Vinnie into his bedroom. "And from now on you don't get to bunk by yourself . . . and neither do I, I guess, since you can't be trusted to act like an even halfway intelligent adult—" 

"It's all over, Frank." 

"That's what you said before." 

"I was wrong then." I underestimated how much he'd need to say goodbye. 

"Yeah, and you're wrong now. I should have made that bet." 

Frank was still yelling at him when Vinnie finally fell asleep.

It was a very peaceful night's sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in Once, Twice, Three Times a Frisky, though I've made a number of changes to it. This is the first Wiseguy story I ever wrote, & until the rewrite there were some pretty big holes in it. (There's still one, but it's just going to have to stay that way.) One thing that stands out for me (and something I revisited in other stories) is the whole John-was-the-apostle-that-Jesus-loved thing (something I've discussed with my mother on more than one occasion). And it's also one of the things about Wiseguy that resonated with me immediately—the strong Catholic strain that runs through it. And you can see how early the story is in that I felt I had to explain that Sonny wasn't dead. 


End file.
